Corruption
by Cornflakes
Summary: AU After Breaking up with her boyfriend, Angel, Buffy buys some empowerment beads with some unexpected effects.
1. Isn't it Romantic

Disclaimer: Needless to say, we do not own any of the characters here except Julia, Amanda, and Nick (who we actually don't own either as they are real people and slavery is all illegal and junk). Starving college students though we are, and in desperate need of fundage-especially next semester when we plan on going to England (Yeah!)-we are making no money whatsoever on this-or anything else for that matter. Please don't sue because all you'll get is a couple of backpacks and a bunch of over-priced and incredibly weighty text books that you can't even sell back for a fraction of their original costs but we're not bitter.  
  
In a romantic little French restaurant, waiters bustle around a dozen circular tables bringing expensive food and even more expensive Champaign to their patrons. The matradee haughtily seats three friends at a table in the corner of the room passing by a young couple chatting amiably. The female half of this pair-a delicately built blond of about nineteen-seemed to be discussing school.  
  
"David," she was saying, "you know my English teacher, said that constructive criticism is the best way of improving your writing and that it's the critiquing party's responsibility to discover everything in the work that's week and point it out in no uncertain terms." She paused long enough to take a bite out of her soufflé and announce for the seventh time that it was "really, really good." "I think that some one picking apart my writing like that would be really helpful, you know? 'Course it might be kind of depressing to find out that my critic thinks my writing sucks but-"  
  
Her companion, a broody sable-haired man of about twenty-six cut her off saying, "Buffy, where do you see our relationship going?"  
  
Taken aback, the girl, Buffy looked at her boyfriend for a moment before answering. "Okay.um.where did that come from?"  
  
"Well, you perceive that we've been dating for two years," he began.  
  
"I perceive?" she inquired with an arched eyebrow.  
  
"I've been reading that Paths of the Dead book you told me about and sometimes I slip into that speech pattern when I'm not thinking."  
  
"Yeah, I did that all the time when I first read it. Drove my mom nuts."  
  
"So," he continued, "we've been dating two years."  
  
"I'm inclined to agree with you as this is our two year anniversary dinner." Buffy gestured to the room around them, the same they had visited for their first anniversary a year prior. Thinking she knew what was coming-Willow had convinced her that despite them saying they'd wait until she was in graduate's school until the were formally engaged, he was going to pop the question-she took another bite of her meal and motioned with her fork that it was his turn to speak again.  
  
"We should have a strong, healthy relationship."  
  
This statement threw Buffy. "After two years together, you don't think we have a strong relationship?" Her voice came out a bit more harshly than she intended, but the conversation was confusing her, and a confused Buffy was a snippish Buffy.  
  
"Not," he answered, no less abrasively than she had, "if you're flirting with other guys."  
  
Now completely confused and more than just snippish, Buffy demanded to know, "Just what guys are you talking about, Angel?"  
  
He offered an indignant sniff to her question. "Well, that Riley kid for one."  
  
"Riley," she said struggling with whether to laugh at or strangle her boyfriend at the suggestion, "I'm not flirting with Riley, when was I flirting with Riley?"  
  
Angel offered her a glare that screamed, "Busted!" "I went to surprise you at school the other day to make you fell better about that civics test you were stressing over, and I saw you with that kid. You were laughing and toughing his big 'I grew up on a farm' farm boy arms."  
  
"Oh my god! You are unbelievable! We were joking around about the lesson. Jealous much?"  
  
He rolled his eyes and continued to glare at her. "I wouldn't be jealous if you weren't going around flirting with other guys, acting too immature to be in a serious relationship."  
  
"Immature," she exclaimed, "I can't believe you're bringing this up again! If you have so many problems with dating some one whose 'immature' perhaps you shouldn't have tried so hard to attract someone seven years younger than you." She said the word "immature" employing the use of finger quotes.  
  
"Ha! So you're saying it's my fault that you're flirting with that little bumpkin?!" he cried. "And what, prey tell, is so mature about your little rabbit gestures?"  
  
"It's a damn sight more mature than your sophomoric name calling!"  
  
By this time, nearly everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, the two girls and boy at the table next to them were whispering amongst themselves behind their hands. "Hey, Amanda," the darker girl said nudging her friend, "Ten bucks says one of those two is going to storm out in a huff before five minutes has expired."  
  
"It'll take at least ten," the other girl predicted. "They've been going out for a long time so the break-up will take longer, don't you agree, Nick?"  
  
"Girl, I think you and Julia are both wrong. Those two won't last more than ten minutes."  
  
While Julia, Nick, and Amanda had their whispered exchange of bets, laying money on the table, the matradee went over to Buffy and Angel's table. "Pleez, zis iz a very expensive restaurant," he whispered in an angry, fake French accent. "Jou and jour boyfriend need to keep it down!"  
  
"Sorry," Buffy whispered, abashed to the enraged Frenchmen, who, she was sure, grew up not two blocks from her. When the pretentious pretender was gone, Buffy turned back to Angel angrily, picking up the conversation where it was interrupted. "I can't believe that you think so little of me. I mean, Riley's nice and all, but do you honestly think I'd consider dating him? He's all poncy."  
  
"Poncy?" Angel asked his face contorted in incredulous confusion.  
  
"Willow's been hanging out with this English guy. I guess the weird Brit- speak is rubbing off."  
  
"RUBBING! WHAT RUBBING!?"  
  
"There was no rubbing; bad Buffy-mouth."  
  
"So," Angel said with false casualty, "flirting with English guys now. Wow. You really get around."  
  
"What? No!" Buffy protested, "I've never met the guy! I don't even remember his name...Spock or Spork or.something like that." she trailed off into her own little Buffy world trying to remember.  
  
Irritated with her absent-minded mumbling, Angel cried, "It doesn't matter what his name is! What matters is my girlfriend is cheating on me!"  
  
For a moment, Buffy is speechless, and Nick is convinced that he has won the bet. "That girl is as good as gone! I can not believe he just said that. But, it does mean he's free. Hello, handsome." Nick smirked at the prospect of such a well-muscled boy-toy.  
  
"Nick, hun," Julia interrupted his preening, "I'm pretty sure that Pretty boy doesn't play for your team. You know, him being with a girl and all. A girl who, by the by, isn't going anywhere for another," she stopped to check the time piece at her waist, "three minutes and thirty-six seconds."  
  
"I think some one's just mad 'cause she lost the bet."  
  
"No, look," the girl replied triumphantly, "Chicky's not going to let that go without saying anything."  
  
And it was true, Buffy, having regained her composure had switched into psycho-Buffy mode. "Cheating! Now I'm cheating on you. First I'm offering it up to some Teutonic momma's boy, and now I'm actually carrying out an affair with some British guy named.uh.named Knife or.dagger or.it was something pointy."  
  
"Oh, so it's pointy now, is it?"  
  
Completely at a loss, Buffy stares at him for a moment as if she had just discovered he had three eyes and an extra arm. "Where is Angel? Where is that sweet angel-faced guy who swept me off my feet?" she puzzled.  
  
"I think he got lost among all the other guys doing the sweeping."  
  
"Ha!" she scoffed, "All of two guys. One being that cheating scumbag, Parker and that was back in junior year and that two minute crush I had on Scott who turned out to be gay. Yep, that about covers it. I can't believe you're stressing over two relationships that were over years ago, an acquaintance, and a not even acquaintance named.aw, hell, it doesn't matter what his name is! What does matter is that my boyfriend of two years doesn't trust me."  
  
"Why should I trust you when every time I turn my back, you're with another guy?"  
  
"Geez, I think I finally know why that Darla chick left you. A girl needs a bit of air if she wants to breathe."  
  
"Yeah? Well, it's been my experience that if you give a woman air, she'll blow you away."  
  
"Wow, this sounds more like an Angel issue than a Buffy issue. You're just a scared little boy."  
  
At this comment, the girls at the next table felt compelled to speak. "Ooh, she told you," Amanda cried in a lame and incredibly loud pseudo- ghetto fabulous tone.  
  
Giving Amanda a "grow up" look and glancing down at her time peace, Julia demanded of Angel, "Are you just going to take that from her?!"  
  
Nick said nothing for the excellent reason that he was absent, having taken a trip to the little boy's room to powder his nose.  
  
Angel glares over at the girls who giggle into their food and go back to eating. After assuring himself that the nosy bimbos have nothing further to add, a red-faced Angel turned back to Buffy. "Are you insinuating-"  
  
"I'm not insinuating, I'm flat-out telling you! You've got issues!"  
  
"I've got issues?" Angel sniffed. "What about you?"  
  
"What about me?" There was warning in her voice and she stood up, managing to tower over Angel despite the fact that even standing she was barely inches taller than he. Had he been paying the kind of attention he should have been or had Julia and Amanda kept their enormous mouths shut, Angel might have caught on to the Buffy's nearing kill-mode signs that she was emitting. Instead, he opened his mouth and placed his foot firmly and irreconcilably in side of it.  
  
"You've got issues!" he asserted. "Little daddy's girl cries whenever Mommy's got a date wit a new man and can't stand any other woman with Papa. Has to control her friends 'cause she can't control her own life."  
  
Buffy's face grew darker and darker as Angel's speech went on. "Is that what you think?" Angel merely offered an indifferent shrug to her demanding tone. "Well, let me tell you what I think."  
  
Angel stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and began walking away. "Don't bother; what you think is never very interesting anyway." And with that, he stormed off, very much in a huff and almost knocking the angry matradee down on his way out of the restaurant.  
  
The restaurant was very silent and still for a second that seemed to stretch on for an eternity until. "Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds! I win." Everyone in the building, who had been previously staring at Buffy- even the cook had his head sticking out of the kitchen to stare-swiveled their heads in unison to look at Julia and Amanda's table.  
  
"You so did not win!" Amanda protested. "It hasn't been five minutes yet!"  
  
"Ah, my exact words were-and if you don't believe me, you can look back to page two-'one of those two is going to storm out in a huff before five minutes has expired.' Five minutes had not expired by the time Pretty-boy walked. I. Win." She offered her friend a face-splitting grin before chanting in a sing-song tone, "I win! I win! Go me! It's my birthday! Do the happy dance! Spike the football!"  
  
Many of the people in the restaurant stared blankly at the brown girl. Buffy, for her part just laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. "'Spike the football," she chuckled. "Spike?" She paused a moment to consider that last. The whole restaurant jumped about a foot when she exclaimed triumphantly, "It was Spike!"  
  
AN: Fun, ne? Well, just wait for the next chapter. There will be much amusing antics from the Quaking Giraffe, the Gay Boy, and Articulate Moron. We'll leave you to guess which one's who. And, of course, there will be future Spuffy goodness. By the by, there are any number of movie quotes in here. Find them all and we'll give you a cookie! Do review. Please. Pretty please. Con sugar! Y whipping-like cream! And bunches of oats! You know, like the cereal. 'Cause we live in "the fields of Battle Creek." It's funny. Tee hee. 


	2. Got my set on you

Chapter 2: Got My Mind Set on You:  
  
AN: So yeah, bet you thought we'd died or sompin'. Or maybe you just wished it. Actually, as Occam's Razor states, our inactivity on FanFiction.Net has a much more simple explanation. And that explanation is this: We are lazy and have been putting writing off for less important endeavors—Finals for example; and sleeping, sleeping's good. So for all three of you who care, we've decided to try to be better about posting on a semi-regular basis. We might even manage to post another chapter before 2005 rolls around. I wouldn't count on it, but one can always hope. So enjoy chapter two.  
  
Disclaimer: Like anyone would pay us for this crap... get real. Generally people pay writers who are actually good and have actual talent.  
  
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As ever, Buffy didn't feel the least bit worried or out of place in the darkened streets. She had never felt any need to fear even the most remote of ally-ways in Sunny Dale despite the horrific stories that one hears living in the small but surprisingly dangerous town. Tonight, however, it wasn't her preternatural swagger that kept her mind off the blood-streaked possibilities of being caught alone and in such spiffy cloths——why hadn't Angel noticed that anyway? She'd gotten especially prettied for their anniversary. She was more concerned about the audacity, the absolute nerve of that fly-by-night, ex-boyfriend of hers. Who the hell did he think he was anyway talking to me like that?!  
  
"What I say is never very interesting? What about him and his mindless droning about toner and lighting as if anybody even cares about the little tricks of the photography trade other than photography people-types!" She absentmindedly kicked a pop can in her path. "And why can't people just pick up their damn litter anyway!" she demanded of the offending bit of garbage. The can either did not know the answer to her question or had taken offence to being launched half-way down the block, for it remained notably silent.  
  
"Well forget you then!" she sniffed at the can giving it another more half- hearted kick right between the logos. She stopped and stared at the thing and gave a sudden burst of nervous giggles. "Look at me," she gasped regaining control of herself, "getting all wiggy just because Angel didn't want me!" Apologizing to the can, she picked it up and tossed it into a nearby dumpster that she could barely see but was able to just as easily pick out by smell. "Here I am, a grown woman——or nearly grown at any rate——and what am I doing? Picking on defenseless Pepsi cans just because my boyfriend . . . err . . . ex-boyfriend thinks I'm boring!"  
  
She let peal another gale of hysteric giggles that dissolved into racking sobs. "How can he think I'm boring?" she cried ignoring the tears that were now flowing from her eyes. She passed into a more heavily populated street blindly following her normal rout through town on her way home. Buffy paid no heed to the milling Friday night crowd, slipping past a number of people she knew from class completely ignoring their friendly greetings. She even managed to overlook a boisterous trio across the street who might have been heard from three blocks down.  
  
"Oh! Look! They have Five Hundred Years After and The Phoenix Guards!" one of them——Buffy had she been able to process anything beyond her own grief which was quickly converting back to anger——"I'm boring! And what the hell is so absolutely fascinating about him, I might ask!"——would have recognized her as Julia from that restaurant——exclaimed more excited than anyone has the right to be over a couple of books.  
  
Nick and Amanda rolled their eyes simultaneously at their excitable friend. "They're just books, Julia," Amanda rejoined. "And not even new books. Hardly anything to orgasm over."  
  
Nick agreed whole-heartedly. "Definitely not orgasmic material. The cover pictures aren't even sexy. Now that piece of lunch meat at the restaurant, that's something to orgasm over!"  
  
"Oh, please, he wasn't that great," Julia said giving her friend a look, "and I thought we already decided that the Mr. Lunch Meat was not . . . uh. . . rainbow flavored. And I happen to think that a good book is plenty to get excited over. I was not, however, having a Meg Ryan moment. Public displays of sexual climax are not 'my bag, baby.' Do you have any idea how hard it is to find more than one Steven Brust novel in one place?"  
  
"Well, you just did. It can't be that hard." Amanda didn't seem the least impressed. "Hurry up and buy them so we can go."  
  
"Isn't that girl over there the one who was just dumped at Che' If You Don't Walk Out of Here Engaged, You Did Something Wrong?" Nick said pointing in at Buffy.  
  
Buffy, for her part managed to completely miss seeing the group who delved into an involved discussion about whether or not she was a frigid bitch——she'd have to be for her boyfriend to have treated her the way he did was Julia thought, but she's just cynical. It was an accomplishment of some note, as no one else on the block managed to ignore the vociferous threesome. Angrily, Buffy wiped her tears.  
  
"I refuse to cry over Angel saying I'm dull. He was just trying to hurt me because he's just a big poop-head." She walked faster, more confidently. "I don't need him. I never could stand all that brooding he did, and he was lousy in bed, and . . . and he had stupid hair!"  
  
Nick who, along with Amanda and Julia, had caught up with Buffy after buying Julia's book and was following her because they're fun and I like to write about them scoffed at her comments. "Who is she kidding? That boy had perfect hair. He looked pretty beddable too."  
  
"Uhg!" Buffy cried, "Who am I kidding? He had perfect hair. And I'm definitely going to miss him in the bedroom."  
  
"That's what I just said," Nick complained.  
  
"Well," Julia shrugged, "You said that they'd break up in two minutes and you were wrong about that."  
  
"Yeah, and there's that whole frigid bitch thing, that's completely off. You were bound to get one eventually."  
  
Nick stopped walking and turned to Amanda with his hands on his hips. "And how do you figure I was wrong? There's no proof that says she isn't."  
  
"She said she's going to miss him in the bedroom. Means she must have liked sex as much as he did. And people who are frigid don't like sex." Amanda gave him her most annoying smirk.  
  
Julia, worried that this could progress into something very catfight- ish, held up her hand and whispered irritably, "Will you two shut it? I'd like to hear what's going on with bipolar-girl if you don't mind."  
  
Bipolar certainly was an accurate way to describe the blonde's walk home. Just as the friends following her at a distance were certain she had decided to be depressed and cry, the girl would start kicking things and coming up with all sorts of inventive new nasties to call Angel. She was alternately furious and hysterical all the way home, a home which turned out to be only a few blocks from where Amanda, Nick, and Julia were staying with Julia's aunt.  
  
Buffy stormed into her house angrily nearly knocking her younger sister over in her hurry to get to her room and burn things. "Hey!" Dawn cried leaning on the stair rail to keep her balance, "what's going on?"  
  
Before the shorter Summers sister could answer the younger one, Willow came in from the living room. "Buffy! What are you doing here? I thought you and Angel would be at his place all . . ." she stole glance at Dawn and reconsidered her wording, "all . . . enjoying a nice Pg-13 type celebration of your impending matrimonial bliss!"  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes at the red-headed witch. "It's okay, Will, I do know about this stuff." Turning to her sister and putting her hands on her hips, she said, "I thought you and the shudder-bug would be playing the rated XXX card on this your second anniversary, but being as you're acting all psycho-Buffy, I'd say the night didn't turn out quite like you planned?"  
  
Willow's brow furrowed worriedly, noticing the infuriated look on her best friend's face for the first time that night. "Oh, Buff, what happened? He didn't ask you to marry him?"  
  
"What?" Dawn shrieked glaring at her sister. "You thought he was going to ask you to marry him! Why didn't you tell me?" Dawn looked more hurt than anything. Her sister was much older than she and often felt the need to omit certain facts that she didn't think the girl was ready to deal with. The younger Summers took this as a serious affront because she always confided in her sister.  
  
"Dawn, I don't tell you everything."  
  
"You don't tell me anything! This is a big something and it's like you don't think you can trust me or whatever." Willow put a calming hand on Dawn's shoulder. Having been Buffy's friend since kindergarten, Dawn was almost as much of a sister to her as she was to Buffy. In this case, her presence was not enough to make Dawn back down as it usually was. This argument was a long time in coming.  
  
"Well, I had good reason not to tell you about this, you would have just freaked out like you're doing right now, like you always do when I tell you something important!"  
  
Willow's eyes went from one sister to the other concern evident on her face. Neither girl seemed willing to back off, and it looked to the worried red-head as if she didn't intervene, blood might be shed. "Okay," she said stepping between the squabbling siblings, "Everyone is strong and empowered and is very womanly so nobody needs to go all wallopy on her sister."  
  
To the great surprise of the two taller girls, Buffy's glare faded immediately from her countenance, her face falling completely. "I certainly don't feel strong or empowered," she whimpered—whimpered like she hadn't done since Scott had informed her he was gay. "I feel like I'm dying." She also felt like crying but was a little dehydrated from her mood swingy walk home.  
  
"Oh, Buffy, what happened?" Willow said laying a hand on her distressed friend's shoulder.  
  
At the same instant, Dawn rushed to comfort her sister with a slightly different tact. "What did that idiot do? I'll be happy to kill him for you if you want." Dawn had never had a great fondness for Buffy's boyfriend and was always offering to test her latest martial arts movie move on him.  
  
Buffy decided to answer Willow instead of her over-eager little sister, even though a thorough but-kicking might be in order later. She related the story through dry sobs (and if you don't remember it—and who can blame you as chapter one was written at least three thousand years ago—refer back to "Isn't it Romantic"). ". . . and then," she concluded, "he said 'What you think is never very interesting anyway,' and he just picked up his coat and left!"  
  
"Oh, Buffy, and we were so sure he was going to propose!" Willow worried at her lower lip, upset that she was the one to plant that particular idea in her head.  
  
"That bastard!" Dawn exclaimed with indignation. "Can I kill him now?"  
  
"Dawn, language!" Buffy admonished climbing out of her depression long enough to play the over-barring older sister.  
  
"Hey, I'm on your side. And your side says, 'kill the unholy monster whose vampire-like personality hath leached all the joy out of my sister.'"  
  
"I need to get Mom to stop buying her those bad melodrama books," the elder Summers murmured. "Did she really just use the word 'hath'?"  
  
"Okay, before we go around killing my boss," Willow said ushering her best friend into the living room and shoving her sister in the direction of the kitchen, "I say a good dose of chocolate is in order."  
  
After settling Buffy on the couch, Willow joined Dawn who was already warming milk and shredding chocolate. The Summers women liked their hot cocoa to be of the non-powdered variety in times of crisis. "We don't have any ice cream right now, so I figured this as a likely substitute. Grab the whipped cream and syrup out of the refrigerator, would you, Will?"  
  
As she did as ordered, Willow frowned. "No tiny marshmallows? Buffy loves tiny marshmallows."  
  
Dawn shook her head adding sugar to the unsweetened chocolate and milk mixture. "Now is not the time for tiny marshmallows. Now is the time for whipped cream and Heresy's best syrup." She thought for a moment. "And maybe some chips too. Check the cupboard to see if we have some."  
  
By the time Willow and Dawn brought Buffy's hot chocolate to her, none of the whipped cream was actually visible underneath all the chips and shavings and crumbled up Oreos they added. "Perfect," Buffy said by way of thanks as she sipped the witch's brew of a pick-me-up.  
  
"That was really good, you guys. Thanks," she managed a wan little smile.  
  
"I'm sensing a 'but' coming up, aren't you?" the red-head speculated to the younger girl.  
  
The brunette nodded. "I get the distinct impression of a 'but'."  
  
The petite blond chuckled sadly. "But I still feel like Angel should want me. He still has this hold on me. How can he end it after two years? All sudden like it doesn't even matter if he hurts me. I just wish I could make it go away. Poof. Gone. I don't care anymore. Just like magic. Why can't I do that?"  
  
"Um . . .," Willow paused hesitantly. "I have an idea."  
  
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AN: Bandgeek252 would like to apologize for the four full paragraphs of chocolate. Anyone who is chocolate fiend or has had they're heartbroken understands the necessity for four full paragraphs. We are hungry so we are going to leave now, but more will follow, hopefully. 


	3. Wicked Witchcraft part I

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AN: Yes, yes, we know; we are terrible people and we take too long to post and we suck. That is the way of things and we are willing to accept it. Anyway, Chapter 3!

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Chapter Three: It's Witch Craft

Willow pulled into the small plaza's parking lot and killed the engine before it died on its own. Her old Cheverly Silverado was, as Dawn was want to say, "Not fuel-efficient, cost-efficient, environmentally-efficient, nor even aesthetically-efficient, and it's only held together by rust, a holding spell of dubious quality, and duct tape. A whole lot of duct tape." But despite these short-comings, both Summer sisters—and pretty much every other friend Willow had—thought that the truck was one of the cutest things about the red-head.

Climbing down and slammed the door—not too hard, and not too soft but with the only amount of force that it would actually stay closed with—Willow spotted Tara who was walking up the sidewalk, arms precariously full. Willow rushed over to help the other girl who was trying to balance her purse and two pastry boxes in one hand while riffling through her coat for her keys. She managed to alleviate the other girl's burden just as the keys were finally located.

"Thank-you," Tara said through a shy smile.

"No problem. What is all this stuff?" Willow indicated the boxes she was now carrying while both women headed toward the corner building of the plaza. It strangely resembled a English thatched roof hut, but the thatched roof was clearly plaster the paint on which was chipped and sun-bleached. The sign over the glass door said Angel Prints in overly stylized Old English type.

"Huh." Tara looked up from sifting though her monstrous key ring. "Oh, it's just some doughnuts and Jiffy© Blueberry muffins—those are for you, 'cause I know you don't like doughnuts so much." Finally finding the right key she unlocked the shop door and let herself and her co-worker in.

"Oh, that's nice." Willow said in a distracted manner.

Instantly, Tara knew something was wrong. Jiffy© Blueberry muffins were Willow's absolute favorite and the girl could be kind of crazy about gratitude for thoughtfulness. And muffins for that matter. "Okay," she asked setting down her keys, "what's wrong?"

"What? Oh nothings wrong." Willow's reply came in that same distracted tone she'd used earlier.

"Something's wrong."

"No really. . . ."

"You have wrong face."

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Oh, n-no. . . I didn't mean that. It's just that you have y-your 'something's wrong' face on. With your nose kind of scrunched up and worried eyes. And you're about to eat a doughnut." Tara laughed a little as Willow scrunched up her face at the offending jelly-filled pastry.

Willow brushed raspberry jelly off her hands with a paper towel from behind the counter and began setting up for the day. "Nothing's really wrong with me," she began "It's just Buffy. . ."

"Buffy, your best friend Buffy? The same Buffy who's dating our boss Buffy? You didn't. . . d-did you two have a fight?"

"Well that's just it. She used to be Buffy my best friend Buffy. The same Buffy who's dating Angel Buffy, but now she's only the latter. . . wait, latter?" Willow's breathless rant degenerated into an incomprehensible grammatical rambling. "I never remember if the first one's former and the last one's latter or if the first one's latter and the last ones former. . . I think it's the former; yes former! Former Buffy."

Tara blinked a few times. "Normally I can translate Willow-speak, but huh?"

Willow began to explain the events of the previous night, her words running together and changing direction mid-sentence in an even more incomprehensible manner than before. When she paused to take a breath, Tara stopped Willow's rant calmly saying: "Stop. Breath. Now, tell me what happened. Slowly."

"Angel broke up with Buffy," she said simply.

"Oh."

"In public."

"Ah."

"At the most romantic restaurant in town."

"Ooh."

"And she thought he was going to propose."

"Ouch."

Before Willow could elaborate, one of the customers neither girl had noticed spoke. "Girl, you should have seen it."

Willow and Tara turned to see a trio of friends, a tall, round and obviously gay young man on the left, a gangly young woman in a school girl outfit in the center, and a short—only 5'8—brown girl dressed like a boy on the right. The girl in the center nodded. "Yeah it was pretty bad."

The girl to her right just shrugged. "Eh, it won me 20 dollars."

"Julia!" both the boy and other girl admonished.

"Pop yourself a pill of compassion!" the girl growled. "People's lives have been flipped upside down here."

"Hey, I'm compassionate. . . sometimes. . . when I feel like it. Anyway, it did win me 20 dollars and Buffy's loss is Nick gain, right, Nic-Nic?"

"JULIA!!" Amanda cried. Nick just smiled thoughtfully.

At that moment, Angel brooded in pausing when he noticed the trio standing in his store proving him wrong that his day could not possibly get worse than it was. Not bothering to acknowledge either of his employees, he stormed into the back room and slammed the door.

"Oooh, he's sexy when he's mad," Nick commented with a bit of a growl in his voice.

"Nick!" Amanda and Julia reprimanded.

"I was joking about this whole thing being a gain for you, you know."

"Yeah. He's not gay," Amanda agreed.

"I love it when they're feisty," Nick continued ignoring his friends, "That usually means they're spit-fires in bed."

"NICK!" Julia cringed. "I do NOT need that mental image."

Tara and Willow looked at Amanda expecting some inappropriate comment but she just buried her face in her hands and shook her head thinking, _Why do I hang out with these _people

Tara sighed and glanced from Willow to the three loonies. "So everyone in town knows about this, I take it?"

Julia smiled reassuringly, but the words that followed were anything but. "Well, we were there, so we naturally have all the sordid details. Which details, incidentally, are published in the gossip column of the _Sunny Dale Daily_. By line: Me!"

Amanda smacked Julia in the arm. "That isn't true, she's too lazy to type up the story and submit it in time. At the same time it _is_ a small town and _some_ _people_ won't keep their mouths shut about things that are none of their business." This last comment was punctuated pointedly with looks in Julia's and Nick's directions which they just as pointedly ignored.

"Buffy's not going to like this," Tara said nibbling her lower lip.

"Oh, I don't know," Willow dissented with an odd mixture of mischief and anxiety, "I think she might be able to bear it with some fortitude."

Tara's eyes went wide. This can not be good! "What did you do?"

"Well. . ."

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AN: So, this is not the complete 3rd chapter. It turns out the the 3rd chapter was too long so we're breaking it up into two or three peices which will be up dirrectly. We wanted to post something as quickly as possible though. As always read and review and read our individual stories too under Bandgeek and MARSHMELLO.


	4. Wicked Witchcraft part II

AN: Oooh! Yeah us! We got part two all up 'n' stuff and it only took a couple of days! The next part of chapter two might take a while, but we'll do our best to geet it up post-haste. Please read and review.

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Chapter Three: It's Witch Craft (part two)

Not far away from where Willow was trying to explain to Tara about exactly what she did—and in such a way as to not get yelled at—and where Nick, Amanda, and Julia were trying to get their pictures developed, a young shopkeeper was trying to move merchandise.

The Magic Box on the outside looked like an exceptionally gaudy Gypsy wagon, all violently violet, outrageously orange, and speckled with evenenty-million stars. On the inside, however, it wasn't so cliché. It had the look and feel of a library at first glance. Everything seemed to be made out of aged wood and worn leather. At second glance, it proved to be much more than that. The shelves, though lined with a great many old, tatty, and well-loved books, also contained strange artifacts of mystical design and glass jar whose contents were always bizarre, often odorous, and sometimes still moving. The place was cozy and welcoming in a profoundly eerie way.

Also welcoming in an eerie way was the aforementioned shop-keep. She buzzed about the store smiling just a shade too brightly at the surprising number of early-morning customers and offering once-in-a-life-time deals with oddly cheerful candor.

It was with this scene that Buffy decided to begin her day. Her makeup was going a long way to conceal the fact that she's spent the better part of the last twelve hours crying but was being out paced. She was grateful to the dim lighting. She was also grateful that she'd refrained from telling Dawn about this excursion; the girl had an unhealthy fixation on the store, for some reason, and accompanied Willow when ever she came, saying something about the attractive atmosphere. Buffy didn't want to make this trip into a grand production, and having stepped into the store, found it gave her the major wiggins.

"Good morning, Miss," the aggressively cheerful sales clerk as she bounded over. "My name is Anya. How may I help you spend your money?" Despite the fact that Buffy had never been a morning person, especially riding on 15 minutes of broken sleep, she found herself instantly liking Anya.

Buffy looked around the shop, curiously wary. "I'm looking for a. . . um. . . a spell."

"You'll have to be a little more specific than that. This is a magic shop. It's full of spells."

"Oh, right. Um, I want something. . . You see my boyfriend and I just broke up and I—"

"Ah! A vengeance spell. My favorite kind! We have some truly great stuff here, most of which just went on special." She indicated a table display of voodoo books, artifacts, and supplies, of which the less that's said, the better. "We've got practically everything you need to get back on that cheating bastard from the exotic like a de-boning to the classic like boils on the penis. Oh! And here's something that'll—"

"No!" Buffy rushed to forestall anymore nightmare options Anya might come up with. She wanted to sleep again sometime this month. "I was actually thinking of something less 'boils-on-the-penis-y' and more 'make-me-stop-feeling-this-way-ish'. Er. . . um. . . Did that make sense?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Anya replied vigorously nodding her head with her brighter-than-it-aught-to-be smile plastered on her face. "But, you _are_ the customer and as I always say, 'The customer is always—"

"Right?" Buffy finished.

"What?" Anya paused, confused. "No. The one with the money," she corrected.

"Right," she replied drawing out the word.

"So what you're thinking is you love this guy, right?"

"Um. . . ."

"But," Anya completely ignored Buffy's attempts to break in, "what you're also thinking is 'How can this happen when I've dedicated five years to this creep and you really thought you loved him and the sex was amazing and he's always telling you he loves you only what you later find out is that he also loves Linda and Mable and Janice and Gertrude and what the hell kind of name is Gertrude anyway when you get right down to it? And another thing. . . ,'" Anya seemed to notice Buffy for the first time and stared at her confusedly. "What were we talking about?"

Buffy, who was by this time more confused than her sales clerk seemed to be, blinked a few times. "Um. . . a way to make me feel less sad and confused and hurt and all."

"Less sad?!" Anya scoffed. "Oh no, Miss, what you need is something to make you feel empowered something to make you realize just how worthless men are—except of course Xander but you can't have that one—and I have just the thing."

"You do?" Buffy was both pleased and a bit wary. She _liked_ Anya well enough, but she wasn't entirely certain the girl was all there.

"Yep!" the clerk grinned bouncing back toward a shelf toward the restricted books section to dig through a hastily stuffed disorganized variety of what looked to Buffy like nothing so much as museum rejects and junk. "The boss sent away to Italy for these bead things, Julean Jewels they're called. Make a person realize their full potential—for two and a half years at any rate—then they're kind of useless to that person even fatal—I'd watch out for good friends with sharp knives—but you won't have them that long. The best part is, you can sell them back to us, at a small price reduction, of course, when you don't need them anymore. Ah! Here they are!" She held aloft a medium-sized burgundy jewelry box.

Buffy eyed the box skeptically; it looked rather beat-up and she couldn't imagine it containing the answer to what's one and one let alone her current conundrum. How does it work? And what does that mean, 'realize full potential?' Does that mean I'll, I don't know, become a famous writer instantly?"

"No. Or at least I don't think so. To be honest, I'm not really the magic person around here. I mostly deal with the money. And that's a good thing too because those boys don't have a clue when it comes to that. Will practically gave away a toe of warthog—and those are pretty rare—to that red-head. Anyway, I think it means you _can_ become a famous writer if it's in you to do so or get over that loser Christopher and his barrage of bimbos. I can't believe he. . . I think I've gone off topic again. What were we talking about?"

"Ummmn. . ." Buffy shrugged. "Some beady thing and how it's supposed to empower me?"

"Oh, right." Anya's grin was back instantly. "I think all you have to do is wear it." She took off the lid to the box and pulled out a long strand of iridescent beads. "And look: pretty. A great fashion accessory."

Buffy took the strand from Anya and was inclined to agree with her, it was absolutely magnificent and she was already planning several outfits to build around the piece. It was the way Anya said it, in that voice of a person who, though enthusiastic about fashion, didn't fully grasp the finer points. It made the shorter girl a little leery about the purchase. "Exactly how much do these beads cost?"

"The priceless Julian Jewels are a steal at $52.76. And you can even sell them back for $8 when you're done with them. Assuming they're undamaged of course. Isn't that a great bargan?" As she spoke, Anya lead the way back to the front of the store so she could ring up the sale.

"Actually, it's a. . . ." before Buffy could finish her sentence—which would have ended "load of shit rivaled only by text book buy-back rates and if that's your final offer you may feel free to sodomize yourself with it vigorously thank-you very much and good-day to you"—she was greeted with the memory of sitting in a very romantic—if snooty—and very cozy—if crowded—French restaurant all in the mood and anticipating a betrothal followed by post-betrothal boot-knocking only to be dumped, publicly humiliated and stuck with the outrageous bill. The image elicited an angry growl from her and she rushed to slap four bills—two twenties, a five, and a ten—on the counter, grab the box and beads, and rush out leaving an angry "keep the change" behind her.

She was slowed down in her exit by the enternce of three other customers just long enough for Anya to call a delighted "Thank-you for your patronage" after her.

The three customers Buffy nearly ran over in her haste to escape the store stopped just inside the door one-by-one and turned one-by-one back toward the street.

"Hey," commented Nick who was closest to the door, "wasn't that. . . ?"

"Looks just like her," agreed Amanda from the middle.

"Yeah, it is. That's the. . ."

". . . Girl from _Cruel Intentions_!" Nick exclaimed.

"No!" Julia and Amanda both dissented.

"It's that chick from _Simply Irrisistable_," Amanda corrected.

"No, no, no!" Julia cried. "It's bipolar girl!" The other two just blinked. "From last night?"

"Oh. _Her_," they said rather stupidly.

Julia was unable to comment on their stupidity, however, because Anya chose that moment to try to push her merchandise onto the trio. "Good morning! How may I help you spend your money?"

"We're just looking, thank-you," Julia replied kindly before turning to riffle avidly through the voodoo display.

Anya's smile became rather fixed as she struggled to hold it in place. She _hated _window shoppers. "Oh, that's fine," she replied stiffly.

Amanda, spotting the reaction, instantly moved to be the peacemaker. "We've never been to a Magic store and don't really know what we want."

The words weren't even all the way out of her mouth when Nick asked, "Got any erotic candles or stamina spells?"

"Nick!" Julia and Amanda reprimanded.

"What?" asked their ever-clueless and over-sexed friend.

"Please come back latter and purchase any and all kinky sex stuff you may wish to get," Amanda pleaded wishing she could scrub the mental images out of her mind that his request dredged up.

"Yes, by all means," Julia agreed. "I _so_ do not need to know how you lure in all those unsuspecting, guileless youths and subject them to your heinous acts."

"Are you objecting to the idea of my having sex with another boy?" Nick demanded huffily.

"Certainly not. I'm objecting to the idea of you having sex period. Especially the part where I have to hear about it."

"I happen to be very pretty."

"And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

Amanda, again seeking to make peace and end the debate—which would have been stretched out indefinitely, the group being prone to argue about the most ridiculous things including, but not limited to the sexual orientation of a cartoon character, whether Post-it or sticky-note was the proper term, and whether or not a TV character was a "muffin person"—held up a random jar grabbed from the shelf nearest her. "Hey, you guys, check out all this stuff. Weird jars with weird stuff like 'Newt's Eyes'."

"Isn't that supposed to be 'eye of newt'?" Julia asked completely forgetting the almost-argument.

"Does it matter?" Nick puzzled looking at another jar. "'Toe of warthog'." He mulled that over a moment. "Is that possible? To have a toe of warthog, I mean. I thought that warthogs feet were cloven."

"Well they are!" Amanda agreed.

"And you should know," Julia said cheerily.

"What?!"

Julia blinked innocently at Amanda's indignation. "'Cause you're all biology girl 'n' sitch."

"Oh." Amanda didn't catch the sly grin Julia shot Nick when she turned her back.

The trio scattered around the shop poking around with Anya's ever-watchful gaze on their backs. Unfortunately, they were too spread out for her to watch all of them at once. Because of this, Julia was able to grab a book from the restricted selection while Anya was eying Nick's perusal of the shrunken head display.

Julia randomly opened the book and began to read. "Bara Bara Himble. . ."

"NO!" Anya cut in, and before you could say "Jemination" she'd jumped the counter, sprinted to the back of the store, and grabbed the book and slammed it shut in Julia's face. "Restricted!!" the frantic shop-keep exclaimed. "These are the 'DON'T TOUCH' books. Can't you read the sign!?!?"

Julia glanced to her right where Anya was pointing at a large poster board that read "Restricted Book Selection: Please neither remove nor read from without consulting shop owners" in vibrant, clear blue lettering. "Oh."

"Sorry about my friend," Amanda apologized to Anya. "She can be a bastard some of the time."

"Yeah, well, there should be a rope or something to separate the area," Julia grumbled completely unrepentant closing the door behind her.

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There are two more sections to chapter 3 and hopefully they'll be posted at the same time.


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